Double Drabble: Nesting
Title: Nesting
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Myfanwy.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 659: Nest at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Myfanwy is trying to nest again.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
It was spring, and Myfanwy was feeling broody. Ianto studied her as she sat hunched in the middle of the nest she’d constructed from straw, old blankets, sticks collected on her night flights, and a fair number of Jack’s socks.
He hated seeing her like this, her expression one of hopeless but resigned patience as she incubated whatever was standing in for eggs this time around. In the past there’d been rugby balls, footballs, rocks, a watermelon, even, on one occasion, a balloon, which had caused her some shock and consternation when it had burst beneath her.
The poor old girl had so much love to give, but she was destined never to have offspring of her own. Jack had suggested once that they ask the Doctor to nip back in time and steal an egg or two, just so Myf could experience parenthood, but the last thing Cardiff needed on top of all the junk that came through the Rift was a breeding colony of Pteranodons. Weevils were bad enough, and they couldn’t swoop on people from above and carry them off.
He gave the prehistoric reptile a consoling pat.
“Sorry, girl. There’ll be no babies this year either.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Myfanwy.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 659: Nest at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Myfanwy is trying to nest again.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
It was spring, and Myfanwy was feeling broody. Ianto studied her as she sat hunched in the middle of the nest she’d constructed from straw, old blankets, sticks collected on her night flights, and a fair number of Jack’s socks.
He hated seeing her like this, her expression one of hopeless but resigned patience as she incubated whatever was standing in for eggs this time around. In the past there’d been rugby balls, footballs, rocks, a watermelon, even, on one occasion, a balloon, which had caused her some shock and consternation when it had burst beneath her.
The poor old girl had so much love to give, but she was destined never to have offspring of her own. Jack had suggested once that they ask the Doctor to nip back in time and steal an egg or two, just so Myf could experience parenthood, but the last thing Cardiff needed on top of all the junk that came through the Rift was a breeding colony of Pteranodons. Weevils were bad enough, and they couldn’t swoop on people from above and carry them off.
He gave the prehistoric reptile a consoling pat.
“Sorry, girl. There’ll be no babies this year either.”
The End